


Goodbye.

by lookingforatardis



Series: it's not over [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Angst, Lots of Angst, M/M, The Author Regrets Nothing, breaking up, it's a breakup fic, listen i really dont know what else to tell you, there's happy stuff but it's all in the light that at the end of this they will break up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 17:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18921922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingforatardis/pseuds/lookingforatardis
Summary: (Prequel to It's Not Over) The slow demise of a relationship. AKA, the breakup fic.





	Goodbye.

**Author's Note:**

> While this is related to It's Not Over, it's not necessary to have read that first. In fact, if you haven't, it might be nice to read this and then have that to look forward to lol

The sink was leaking, the steady _drip, drip, drip_ echoing in the mounds of silence they'd placed between them. Timmy stared at the ground, his ears ringing as the sink continued to fill the space he hadn't meant to create. 

"Are you okay?" 

He looks up, his eyes blurry, and stands to leave. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It only started in Italy by a technicality. Everyone always assumed if it were to happen, it was during filming, but it started much later in a hotel room with screaming and shouting. Timmy had cried when he saw his name on the list after the initial shock had subsided. He'd held onto Armie's waist as he hugged him, his face pressed against his shoulder, Armie's praise making him light.

It wasn't until later that Timmy held him for different reasons, Armie shouting, tears in his eyes, a glass in hand. Timmy crept into the room and tried to hold him, found him furious, had to allow him to scream it out of his system before he could be properly soothed. Armie had collapsed after, rested his head against Timmy's chest when he followed him down and pulled him closer. 

They didn't mean to lean in, it was a subconscious draw to one another, to lean, to want. Timmy's nose skimmed Armie's jaw, Armie's hand lifted to Timmy's hair, their breathing lifting to the skies as they closed their eyes and caved.

It didn't start in Italy in the way people might expect, but Timmy always thought that when he'd tell their story one day, he would start it there. Say it happened in Italy, all of it, all at once, filming and that fateful day layered over each other until it was one memory that stretched over time and distance to connect them. 

 

 

 

They were inseparable. Contracts were drawn for their privacy, Timmy tucked away into the fine print of Armie's life, though neither would say they saw it that way, not at first. Secret flights and hotel rooms and surprise visits became the norm. Social media deleted and protected, Armie playing it up at home to avoid suspicion, Timmy finding his own way _. Give and take. You and me_. These were their mantras, the words they clung to in the heat of night under blankets and sheets, or over airwaves and time zones in phone calls and deceptions. 

Their favorite times were days Elizabeth would go to Dallas or New York alone, the days when Armie would mention Timmy would be in town too, maybe he would stop by just to cover his tracks. The days when Timmy would sit and color with his children, put bandaids on their scrapes, make dinner with him in the kitchen, cover his mouth at night so no one would hear him moan, kiss him good morning.

Timmy would skim his fingers along Armie's side when he'd pass him in the kitchen, lean his head against his back while they cooked, Ford in his arms while Harper would show off her dance moves, instigate dance parties just because Timmy was there and incapable of denying her. Armie would call Elizabeth at night so she could say goodnight to the kids and Timmy would be undressing in the guest bedroom he preferred they stayed in, waiting for him, waiting for the validation he needed in their ever-tumultuous circumstance.

 

"Do you want more kids?" Timmy asked one night, his fingers skimming lines up and down Armie's forearm, watching goosebumps form.

"Why, do you?"

"Answer the question," Timmy smirked. A sigh escaped him when Armie turned his head and pressed his lips against Timmy's chest briefly before lifting up to look in his eyes.

"I could have more."

"With me?" Armie softened at the vulnerability in Timmy's expression, the hesitation in his voice.

"Yes, with you. Always with you." He kissed him and tried to erase any doubt he might have, whispered how they'd get a surrogate, how he wanted Timmy's DNA used, how he wanted them to have a kid with his smile, kissed him until Timmy was overwhelmed and certain this meant forever.

Certain that his family was wrong, that Armie would in fact choose him when the time came.

 

 

 

"This is my friend, Timmy," Armie said while gesturing to him with the hand of his that wasn't lifting a beer to his lips. "Timmy, this is Drew," he nodded towards his friend. In an instant, Timmy felt himself deflate before catching it and lifting the corners of his lips and waving at the man.

"Another actor, just what we need, nah I'm just kidding," he said with an easy laugh and a hand slipping into his pocket as he glanced around before turning the conversation back to Armie about something Timmy felt incapable of focusing on.

It was always the picnics, the barbeques, that made him sick to his stomach. If he was in town when Elizabeth was, the Hammer's always seemed to throw some sort of gathering where he'd reconnect with people, and in instances like this one, would be introduced to unfamiliar faces.

As a friend. Without a second glance, nonchalant, hands kept to sides and eyes un-lingering.

He knew his place.

The first time it happened, he'd ended up in the guest room staring at the wall and picking nervously at his jeans with his lip pulled between his teeth until it was raw. Armie found him and asked what was wrong. "Nothing, go back and have fun. I'll be back in a minute."

"It's not nothing, man. Just be honest." And Timmy had looked at him with a question in his eyes, curious if Armie really had no idea, if perhaps he was really reading too much into this.

But it happened again and then again, and Timmy knew it wasn't a coincidence that Armie became almost too-friendly around other people when Elizabeth was around, and not in the too-friendly way he saw behind closed doors. He told Armie one night that it hurt him to be brushed aside. Armie had been devastated, completely unaware of how extreme his actions had come across. He'd apologize every time they had to go somewhere in public, swear to Timmy he loved him before and after, but there was always something missing.

Soon, Timmy would tell himself. Soon it'll be different.

 

 

 

"Tim," Armie groaned. "Can you please—"

"Please what? What do you want?" Timmy asked with an innocent smile, his fingers chasing Armie's as he tried to get dressed, undoing all of Armie's work and skimming his lips over his chest as freshly covered skin found its way exposed again. Armie's hand lifted to scratch at Timmy's scalp for a moment, a hum escaping his lips before he snapped out of it, Timmy's hands quickly undoing the last button and sliding up to push the shirt off. Armie catches him before it happens and pulls Timmy's wrists up and around his neck.

"Behave."

"I don't wanna," Timmy smirks. "Stay here, I'll make it worth it."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Armie laughs, quickly buttoning the shirt— _again_ —and kissing Timmy to keep him from sabotaging him from getting ready. "My agent will be very upset if I do that, though."

"I haven't seen you in months though!"

"It's been three weeks," Armie smiles, tucking in the shirt and reaching over for a tie, Timmy swaying with him.

"It's _felt_ like months."

"Okay, okay," Armie laughs, shrugging Timmy's hands off his shoulders so he can slip the tie around his neck.

"Let me," Timmy offers, hands taking over the garment before Armie thinks better of it.

"Ah ah, not a chance. You'll have me undressed in a minute."

"Less if you cooperate."

"Very funny," Armie rolls his eyes, but laughs nevertheless as he finishes tying the tie. He walks over to Timmy's bathroom and messes with his hair before turning back. "Good?"

"Good," Timmy nods, smiling. He grasps his hands behind his back and shifts his weight forward a little. "Do I get a goodbye kiss?"

"Can you control yourself?" Armie asked with a smirk, already walking over and framing his face in his hands.

"Can you?"

"Ha ha," Armie mumbled, lips meeting Timmy's for a kiss that to be fair probably lasts a little too long.

Timmy texts him during his meeting and Armie resists the urge to check, knowing it was probably a photo he absolutely could not be seen looking at. He'd wait until he was in the car back to Timmy's apartment to look and hope to god his temporary silence wouldn't sour their brief overlap in schedules for Timmy.

Timmy would spiral when he was ignored, and Armie was too aware of the consequences when he did it.

 

 

 

Armie was still trying to catch his breath when Timmy couldn't wait any longer. He adjusted his laptop on his bed and twisted the blanket around his hand. "Is this an impulse?"

"Huh?" Armie's forehead scrunched up and he lifted his head and shifted to better see his screen. "What do you mean? Jacking off over skype?"

"No, not—I mean _us_." Timmy glanced at the time in the corner of his screen and cringed at how tired he'd be the next day. It was worth it; it was always worth it.

"Are _you_ an impulse, you mean." Timmy just stared, listened to the silence in his room and the slight rustling of sheets from Armie's side as he climbed under them. Timmy couldn't help but feel it was symbolic, Armie hiding himself away to avoid his examination. "No, you're not."

"But kissing me that first time _was_."

"So therefore everything after is, too?"

Timmy bit his lip and looked down at his keyboard. He knew this was dangerous territory, but Armie was always more honest at night and his only chance of ever getting real answers was to ask when he had him alone. Still, Armie pushing back against his question makes him hesitate to pursue it.

"No, no you're right. I'm just missing you, it's messing with my head is all." Timmy looks up to see if he's gotten away with it, but sees Armie digest his words.

"You're not an impulse," he whispered. The silence pulls over Timmy like the sheets covering Armie's body and he nods, afraid to speak and risk his voice breaking. "I promise."

 

 

 

"You looked nice tonight," Timmy said, fingers twisting around the cord of his hoodie as he shifted and swayed near the window of his hotel room, his phone pressed to his ear to gather as much of Armie's voice as possible. He doesn't mention Elizabeth, but there's a gnawing sensation at his stomach begging him to pick a fight, to hear Armie talk about his wife and know it couldn't have been him by his side.

"Thank you, but one of these days I'll get you to pick my outfit, I swear to god. It'll be better than anything they can come up with."

"Are you sure you want to give me the power to choose what you do and don't wear?" Timmy smiles, tongue rushing over his lip.

"As long as I'm actually dressed," Armie chuckled. "You'd be too jealous anyway if I walked around naked."

"That's true," Timmy mumbled, eyes caught on the unfamiliar cityscape. He tried not to think about Elizabeth.

"Tim," Armie sighed, perhaps already sensing his thoughts.

"I know, I know. It's fine."

"You're upset."

"I'm not upset," Timmy insisted. He didn't know how Armie always knew, how he could tell the instant things changed in Timmy's mind for the worse.

"I can't do anything about it."

"I know," Timmy shook his head. _You could, though_ , he thought. _You could leave her._

The silence went on for too long and Timmy eventually sat down on the bed and stared at his hands, the phone on speaker at his side so he could listen to Armie breathe. "I understand," Timmy mumbled "I know what this is."

"No, don't do that. Don't try to play this down—"

"I have to! If I don't play this down then I'll, I'll just, I have to think about this differently than you think about this, Armie."

"You're hurt, I don't want you to be—"

"Please, let's drop it. I'm okay, I promise. You're married and I understand that this is complicated, it's really okay." Timmy twisted his hands together in his lap and bit at his lip while he listened to Armie sigh. He changed the subject, not wanting to fight with Timmy either and knowing there wouldn't be an easy answer to satisfy either of them.

 

 

 

They were going to make dinner together and watch the latest movie Luca recommended when Timmy came over to Armie's place. They were going to listen to music and laugh about how off key Armie was as Timmy danced around the kitchen slapping his ass with a towel.

They ended up barely covered by a blanket on the couch, breathless and sated, not nearly an hour after Timmy's arrival, Armie perched in a half-seated position as Timmy sprawled out over him, breath puffing out across his chest.

"You're my favorite," Armie murmured as his fingers traced up and down Timmy's spine with enough pressure to make him shiver and shift against Armie's body.

"You're just saying that because I let you do that thing," Timmy mumbled, voice half obstructed by Armie's skin. He thumbs at Armie's nipple and smiles with his eyes slipping closed when it makes Armie hum.

"I think you'd be my favorite regardless," he chuckled, his hand moving to tangle in Timmy's hair.

"You're my favorite, too."

"Yeah? Do I have competition?" Armie teased, his fingers twisting around Timmy's curls. Timmy laughed despite the sting in his chest at the implication. Timmy had competition. Timmy couldn't assume he was the favorite.

Armie, on the other hand, never had to worry.

Timmy lifted his body up to kiss Armie's lips, his chin, down his chest. He stopped at Armie's ribs and settled back on down on top of him with a huff, his leg purposefully falling against Armie's dick. "You know you don't. You've ruined me for other men, you know."

"Flattery will get you everywhere and everything," Armie smirked, shifting his hips and covering Timmy's arms with his hands. Timmy knew he was trying to keep the conversation light, to stay away from the one topic they don't like to touch, especially not naked, and especially not on the couch she probably chose herself.

They made it to the kitchen eventually and Timmy drifted ever closer to Armie for warmth and comfort, his hand snaking up and under Armie's shirt to rest against his shoulder blades and spine, his lips brushing over his arms, back, neck. "You're needy today," Armie commented at some point after turning to hold onto Timmy, his lips scattering kisses across his face.

"I missed you," Timmy mumbled with a smile and a shrug, his hands slipping along Armie's waist under his shirt.

"I missed you more." And Timmy almost believed him, his eyes so sincere and open, his hands softening against Timmy's face, sliding down his arms to hold both of his hands as his lips pressed firmly against his forehead, an innocent gesture Timmy hadn't expected. "I love you so much, you know that, right?"

"Yeah," Timmy smiled, his heart filling up with warmth and light.

"I don't know why you love me, but I'm so fucking glad you do," he told Timmy, his lips brushing over both his cheeks before pressing against his lips.

Timmy frowned. "I love you so fucking much, you don't have to question why. You're everything to me."

"I know, baby." Armie smiled at him and kissed him again, but Timmy knew it was just so he wouldn't push the subject. Armie's insecurities in their relationship never seemed to fade despite Timmy's best efforts. Instead of arguing over it, he gave in and kissed him back, let them get caught up in each other for a lingering moment before turning back to dinner.

Later, curled up on the couch while some French film played with subtitles for Armie, Timmy stared at his features and vowed to make him believe him one day when he told him that he deserved this love.

 

 

 

Something had shifted as of late, their phone conversations not lasting quite as long before Armie had to cut them short. They met up just as often, but it wasn't always in the privacy of one of their homes or a hotel room. Armie deleted his social media—again—and frequently deleted his texts out of fear of her seeing. With nothing to hold onto but the present moments they had, he started drifting, and Timmy noticed almost immediately.

He tried holding his hand discretely at an afterparty one night, only to be abruptly and painfully rejected by Armie as he turned to join another conversation in a more crowded area. It was risky, and Timmy knew better, so he didn't follow.

Later, he left alone, his body and mind drunk and exhausted from trying to get Armie's attention and losing to Elizabeth. He understood, he did. But it didn't make it any easier.

Armie stumbled into his hotel room and held him until they fell asleep, Timmy's body curled around him to stop him from leaving, his hands clutching at his skin when he tried around 6am. "Please don't," Timmy had murmured over and over again, his face pressed against Armie's chest.

"I have to, I'm sorry."

"Please," Timmy whispered, his voice wet and broken. Armie's sigh made his head rise and fall on his chest.

 _"Timmy_."

"I know." His fingers still clutched to Armie's sides as he tried to reign himself in enough to pull his body away from him. He turned onto his side facing away from Armie, his eyes clenched shut so he didn't have to watch as he dressed and left. The light touch of Armie's hand on his shoulder made him pull the blankets closer up around his body as it drifted away, the _"I love you_ ," not nearly enough as the door clicked shut.

 

 

 

"She's driving me insane!" Timmy bit his lip and tried not to get ahead of himself at Armie's outburst over the phone. They'd gotten into a fight, he gathered. A fight over Timmy.

He couldn't blame her for being angry. She shouldn't have ever found his clothes in the first place, Timmy shouldn’t have been careless and left them at Armie's house.

"She just fucking sat there with your shirt in her hands and asked what it was, like it's your shirt for fuck's sake, it's not like you left your fucking boxers and a box of condoms."

"Armie, she doesn't know I was there last time, it makes sense that she'd be confused."

"Well you're here all the fucking time. She's never commented on it before."

Timmy sat quietly in his trailer and listened to Armie pace. He knew this had more to do with the fact that he'd nearly been caught then it did with Elizabeth being confused, but he didn’t dare ask Armie to admit that.

The truth was, there had been countless signs in the weeks leading up to this that made Timmy think Armie might be ready to come clean, to actually choose and end their sneaking around. Her finding Timmy's shirt felt like fate, at least to him. A part of him wanted to slip up, wanted her to figure it all out and force Armie to choose so he didn't have to. Not that he'd ever admit it.

He listened to Armie vent until it was out of his system and he seemed to realize he'd monopolized Timmy's break with his frustration. "I have to go, Armie," Timmy had said his voice timid and reluctant.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry! Tell me to shut up next time, god. I'm sorry."

"It's alright—"

"No it's fucking not. We barely get to talk these days. I'm so sorry, Tim."

"Hey, I'm here for you, for the good and the bad, alright?" Timmy chewed on his lip as Armie sighed, then groaned in frustration. "I love you," he adds.

"I love you, too. I'm sorry, Tim."

"I know, I forgive you." Though he meant the words, he couldn't help the slight disappointment he felt when the call ended and he was left staring at his empty trailer, the time on his phone telling him to go.

 

 

 

 

 

Timmy went to Armie's set to surprise him, a bottle of whiskey in hand and his heart nearly out of his chest. He'd rehearsed it more times than he could count. He knew they were in a weird place recently, but it was only because Armie kept worrying he wasn't giving Timmy enough attention. It was a good sign, _really_ , Timmy thought. He wanted them to have more than they had, it was _good_.

They'd spoken on the phone a few days before, Armie staying up half of his night to keep Timmy on the line, his tired voice begging Timmy not to hang up just yet every time he tried to tell him to sleep. He'd missed him, Timmy had smiled at that. He missed him so much he couldn't sleep; Timmy booked a flight without a second thought.

His knock against Armie's door was nervous as the sound echoed in the hall. The door swung open and Timmy's jaw went slack at the bare chest he was met with, eyes smiling immediately at the sight of Armie. "What—Timmy, oh my god," Armie sputtered, eyes wide as he opened the door wide.

"Good surprise?" Timmy fidgeted, a sly smile on his lips. Armie rolled his eyes with a small but growing smile and pulled him into a hug before walking them into the room and shutting the door. Armie took Timmy's hand in his and led him into the kitchen where he poured them each a glass of whiskey while asking Timmy about his flight. They sat in the living room, Timmy tucked against Armie's side while they caught up.

Silence grew between them, but Timmy told himself it didn't mean anything.

It starts how it often does, the two of them gravitating towards one another without words, Timmy settling against the weight of Armie as they kiss, hands brushing skin until shivers turn to moans. Armie halts Timmy before it gets too heated, his eyes apologetic as he tells him he's exhausted and sorry. "You were about to go to bed, weren't you? Sorry," Timmy shakes his head, realizing his timing too late.

"I'm glad you're here, it's fine," he chuckled, brushing Timmy's hair back. "We just had a brutal shoot today is all." Timmy nodded and tried not to pout, understanding but disappointed. "Timmy," Armie sighed, sensing his mood.

"I probably should have called first," Timmy said sheepishly.

"It's okay, babe." Timmy leaned into the comfort of Armie's side before downing the last of his whiskey. "What's going on? You seem quiet." Timmy shrugged and kissed Armie's shoulder to settle his nerves. He could wait to talk to Armie until tomorrow, surely. He didn't _need_ to talk today, it could wait. They'd waited this long to talk about it after all, what was another day? He kissed Armie and told him it's nothing, he's just tired too. Rubbing his temples, Timmy sighed at the smile on Armie's face. He could have this forever, he thought to himself.

The vibration of Armie's phone ringing startled their quiet moment and Timmy's heart sank before he even looked to see who was calling his lover. "I'll um… I'll call her tomorrow," Armie mumbled before turning the phone over on his coffee table and leaning in to kiss the worry lines away from Timmy's face. He'd been doing this more often, choosing Timmy over Elizabeth in small ways. It felt important to Timmy, and while he cared for Elizabeth, he couldn't deny that it felt nice to be prioritized by Armie.

In fact, Timmy thought back to all the times recently when Armie had gone out of his way to show preference for him, all the moments that led to him booking that plane ticket, to him deciding it was _time_ , that they were both ready, that they needed to have a serious conversation about what they mean to one another. "What?" Armie smiled, brushing his fingertips over the curve of Timmy's cheeks. "You're getting that look in your eyes."

"What look?" Timmy asked, laughing softly.

"Like you're completely lost in your own head."

"Hmm," Timmy hummed, running his hands through Armie's hair. "Just thinking."

"About?" Timmy smirked and Armie gripped at his thighs as if to say, _don't you dare quote our movie right now_.

"You." Timmy leaned in and kissed his neck. "And me, _us._ "

"And what about us?" Armie sighed. Timmy could tell he was tired, but Armie kept giving him that soft look he loved so much and what could it hurt to just start the conversation, maybe finish it tomorrow or the next day before he left?

"Our future," Timmy said quietly with all the confidence he could muster. Armie's smile stayed in place, but he looked a little confused as Timmy squirmed next to him. "I've been thinking," Timmy started. "I want this to be more permanent, and I don't want you to promise anything right now because I know you need time to process—"

"Timmy."

"But you're the love of my life and I really—"

"Tim," Armie muttered, covering his face with his hands. Timmy's heart raced in his chest but he couldn't stop himself, something deep in him was bursting and if he didn't say this now, he'd go to bed feeling unsettled.

"We've been so patient, Armie. But I think you want this as much as I do, and I know it's been rocky lately but I think that's just because we can't really _be_ together." Timmy smoothed his hands over Armie's to drop them from his face so he could look at him. He smiled, looking into Armie's eyes, the eyes that had brought him countless moments of comfort, the eyes he'd fallen in love with.

"It's late, Timmy," Armie whispered, biting his lip.

"Oh… okay," he nodded, suddenly nauseous. Armie made no move to get up, though. "We can talk tomorrow—"

"I don't think…" Armie closed his eyes. "Tim, I don't know if that's a conversation we should be having right now." The words hung heavy in the air as Timmy tried to understand if he'd misinterpreted something, or if Armie was just tired, or what. Suddenly, it was unusually difficult to read him.

"Armie?" Timmy asked quietly, nervous. "Are you mad at me?"

"No, no I'm not mad," he shook his head.

"Okay, well… if you're not ready then it's fine, we're fine, we can just—"

"Nothing about this is fine, Timmy," Armie groaned, moving to stand. Timmy sat socked in silence and watched Armie pace for a moment before turning back. "You don't deserve this."

"Armie," Timmy scoffed, tucking his legs against his chest.

"No, seriously. You fucking come out here to surprise me because that's the kind of person you are, you care so fucking much, you're so patient and always the one putting in more here and I give you nothing—"

"That's _not_ true. Hey, where's this coming from?"

"It's coming from you coming here and wanting something I can't give you, Tim!" For a moment, they just stared at each other in draining silence, both afraid to say something that would fracture their lives, both apart and together. Terrified, Timmy stayed quiet as Armie moved to sit back on the couch with a heavy sigh. “You _know_ I can’t do this with you yet.”

“Then when, Armie?”

“I can’t give you an answer to that, Tim.” The heartburn in Timmy’s chest was growing as Armie refused to look at him. He needed to backtrack quickly, and he knew it—Armie could only stave off his anxiety at this relationship for so long after being pushed.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up, I didn't mean to upset you," Timmy started, reaching out to rub his hand against Armie's. "Can we just go to bed?"

"How many times are we going to do this?" Timmy's heart stopped at Armie's question, at the delayed glance he threw at Timmy all full of hurt and fear. "This isn't fair to you." Timmy's heart clenched; he was all too familiar with Armie's self-doubt.

"Stop, I knew what I was signing up for."

"You didn't, you thought I'd leave her."

Timmy blinks, shoulders slumping as the words echo in the inches between their hearts. Cold air consumes him, or perhaps it's just a shot of adrenaline, a fight or flight response kicking in before the words truly register. The resignation on Armie’s face, the frustration in his shoulders—Timmy didn’t know whether to scream or cry.

"What the fuck—"

"You deserve so much more," Armie whispered, shaking his head.

"Don't you fucking do this. Let's go to bed."

"We're kidding ourselves if we think—"

"STOP! It's fine, we're doing fine! I don't want to talk about this," Timmy cried out, pushing his hands through his hair.

"We can't just run away from the truth, Timmy!"

"Which is what, that you'll never leave her and I'm just a mistake, is that it?"

"Timmy," Armie groaned, staring up at the ceiling.

"We're not doing this right now. You're tired and—"

"Will you just, can you look at this objectively for _one_ minute?" Armie asked, eyes pleading. "You're going to wake up one day and resent me for everything."

"Don't tell me what I'm going to feel," Timmy complains. "That's not fair, I'm in love with you and I already told you I'm okay with waiting—"

"But what if the waiting doesn't stop?" Armie shook his head and pulled one of Timmy's legs into his lap to rub at his ankle. "What if it's always this?" he asks more quietly.

"Armie, don't do this," Timmy whispers.

"You deserve someone who will stand by your side."

"I want _you—_ "

"I'm never going to be that guy, Timmy. I can't be that guy."

"You can though, stop it. _Please_."

"You _know_ this isn't working—"

"It's in your head, Armie. This _works_ , it does—"

"It doesn't," he shook his head, eyes closing. "What would have happened if she'd been here when you showed up? Timmy it would have killed you. And every time you visit and she’s there and you have to watch us together. Tim. We can't keep doing this."

"You're inventing problems," Timmy said, moving to frame Armie's face in his hands. "Please. Stop."

"I'm being honest, Timmy. You deserve more than I can give you!"

"But I want you!"

"I can't!" Timmy fell back against the couch, heart aching as the emotion he'd been holding back began spilling over. "I can't live with myself knowing I'm hurting you."

" _This_ is hurting me," Timmy mumbled, staring at the floor by Armie's feet. He suddenly felt drained of all energy.

"You know I love you, but it's because I love you that I can't keep doing this to you. I know you don't want to see it, but you want things I can't give you, Timmy. We’re living a fucking lie. You've been settling for me for too long, and I don't want to be the one disappointing you anymore." Timmy's tears ran down his face silently, his chest heaving with shuddering breaths. "Sometimes it feels like I'm breaking your heart by loving you and that's not, that's no way to live, to hurt by loving someone. You only want to remember the good, but it's not all good and you know it."

"Please just stop," Timmy murmured.

"I think we have to let go. I have to let go. We can't do this anymore."

Timmy stared at the floor so long that he grew dizzy. His face itched from drying tears, his hands numb in his lap, leg drawn back from Armie's reach. The apartment smelled like Armie, a smell he knew well, felt immense comfort from under any other circumstance. It made him sick, though, the scent of too many memories overwhelming and heavy.

He should have known something was off when he walked in and Armie didn't immediately kiss him. He should have sensed that things weren't going well when he'd stopped calling Timmy first, when he'd wait for Timmy to reach out in the mornings instead of greeting him with good morning texts. The increased interaction between Armie and Elizabeth in the media, the shortened calls and his rare clinginess showing up. Timmy should have anticipated _something_ with how distant he's felt lately, but Timmy always excused it, thought it was just stress. Had he been making excuses, did he really deserve more? Timmy felt a migraine coming on, his heart so heavy he feared he'd topple over.

"Are you okay?" Timmy stared at the wall as the sound of Armie's sink dripped quietly in the absence of _I love you_. With a shaky sigh, Timmy stood and gathered his strength. Quietly, he began walking towards the door. "Timmy—"

He slipped his feet into his shoes and reached for the door handle that would lead him outside. He closed his eyes briefly to stop them from watering again, took a few deep breaths, and opened the door.

"Goodbye, Armie."

 

**Author's Note:**

> SO.... now if you're sad go reread It's Not Over lol


End file.
